


A Favor to Ask

by PaigeStaves



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Non-binary character, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Other, Rough Sex, Sexual Frustration, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaigeStaves/pseuds/PaigeStaves
Summary: Adrian and Thea share the mark, after being torn from their world and into Thedas. Outsiders, and suddenly very central to the survival of this new realm, they rely on their steadfast friendship to carry them through and home.Adrian had a dry spell before being spun into the strange world of Thedas, and this unfortunately continued until the pent up frustration became too much for her to handle. It's a good thing she knows of a certain Qun spy who seems well suited to help her, ah, scratch the itch.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull
Kudos: 15
Collections: Two Inquisitors One Brain Cell





	A Favor to Ask

They stood in front of the Iron Bull, teeth grinding slightly in their effort to control the frustration pent up within. _He won’t care,_ Thea had said. _It’ll be fine_ , Thea had said. Adrian did not have any of the hang ups that they feared in others, and they knew Thea was right about the Iron Bull. Subtly was not Adrian’s _thing_ and addressing sensitive topics in socially acceptable ways always opened the door to more anxiety for them.

 _Ah, fuck it_ , they thought, _fuck it all. Nothing to lose. All to gain_.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” they stated.

 _But he’s a spy,_ Adrian had said.

 _Well, yeah, but do you think he’d really tell the Qun about that? Do you think it could be used against us?_ Thea had asked.

Adrian had thought it over thoroughly and talked with Thea until she had simply shut down the conversation to a simple choice: do or don’t.

The way Adrian settled it, if the Qun found their appetites interesting enough to use, then Leliana would know as well. And if all the spymasters in Thedas knew, and Adrian themself knew, then what use was knowing? It was not like there would be an attachment.

That line of thinking cycled through Adrian’s head as they had briskly walked from the main hall to the tavern. Something deep within them was waking up, something that had gone dormant after several months in Thedas.

“Anything for you, boss,” the Iron Bull grunted.

He was reclined in his usual seat, legs outstretched, hands folded over his stomach as he watched the tavern’s business bustle on.

Adrian sighed, “It’s not anything official. I wouldn’t be asking as your boss.”

The Iron Bull turned his full focus to Adrian. They knew their face was a mask of serious professionalism, but his shrewd eyes never missed the small tense workings of their mouth or the stiffness in their bad shoulder.

“Unofficial, eh? Just how off the books are we talking?”

Adrian felt a grin tempt the corners of their mouth.

“It’s more personal than political.”

As he sized her up, leaning forward in his chair to lean his elbows on his knees, Adrian felt their resolve waver. His eye met the wall behind their own, and something shifted between them—something that stoked the beast that was waking up deep inside of Adrian. They felt an intensity rise to the surface of their skin. But they kept their posture firmly, if stiffly, in check.

“Hmm,” he nodded, never breaking eye contact, “I suppose I could…” He trailed off and reclined once more. He turned his gaze to his tankard, seeming to check the level of ale.

Adrian allowed themself to grin, and they peered at him wickedly.

“I didn’t know you were the type to need a drink first, but if wooing is required, I can certainly play along.”

It was daring of them to use any innuendo after almost a year of carefully chosen words. Adrian felt a velvet confidence unfolding along their bones. their muscles relaxed, posture easing into one more suited to accentuating their narrow waist and wide hips. The Iron Bull raked his gaze over them, chuckling lowly. He had caught on.

“Never been the type, but I definitely figured you for one.”

His voice was quiet and low, with a depth that tugged at whatever lustful beast was fully awake and demanding in Adrian. Their chin tilted in that way they knew showed off their neck, lips parting just so, as they met his gaze unflinching and direct.

“It’s not _romance_ that I’ve been needing. Nothing romantic at all,” they replied, just as soft and just as daring.

“I’m a big fan of _not romantic_.”

A line of tension gave way between them, and Adrian let their face show its vulnerability.

In an even half-whisper without a trace of apology or self-consciousness, they confessed, “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I can hardly concentrate on anything. I’ve been in Thedas over a year, with months before that.” They stopped to check the beast that roared at them from within. The Iron Bull had magnetic eyes, and they needed to remember their surroundings.

Their face turned grave.

“It’s not lost on me that we’re vulnerable because I’ve an itch I can’t scratch. My judgement, my abilities, all of it compromised.”

The Iron Bull’s expression maintained its intensity and matched their seriousness.

“That favor, then,” he said.

“It’s a matter of trust.”

“Trust, eh? In the Qun spy?”

“It’s not that kind of trust, and I think you understand that.”

“It’s good to check.”

Adrian waited a beat, then offered, “If you need time to consider…”

The Iron Bull shook his head with a half-grin, “No time necessary.”

He stood, continuing, “But I have my men to see to first.”

He took a step to close the distance, boots thudding heavily on the wooden floor. Adrian was only chest-high on him, and they felt heat and intensity radiating from the massive form that loomed over them. But they never broke eye contact. They met and matched him, lips relaxed, hands clasped behind their back, chin tilted up.

“Your quarters then?” he asked, low and quiet.

“No,” Adrian replied. The Iron Bull raised an eyebrow.

Adrian took their own small step forward, head tilted back. “The quartermaster’s storeroom. Eight ‘o-clock. And don’t be late.” They smiled, head cocked to the side, watching another type of grin spread across the Iron Bull’s face. Thrill spread through them. Dangerous, delicious thrill.

Adrian had used the un-mended portions of the storeroom’s roof to slip in undetected. They leaned against the wall. Then a sawhorse. Then a table. They tried not to let the needling worry that the Iron Bull would stand them up get the better of their trust in their companion. But all worry fled when they heard the quiet workings of a lock pick from the front door. That velvet confidence unfolded within them again, and they stood with their legs apart facing the door, one hip cocked.

The door eased open, and the imposing frame of the Iron Bull entered. His expression was serious, and Adrian felt all the better that they did not have to attend to social niceties in that moment.

“You are sure that this is what you want?” he growled, shutting the door and locking it again.

“Yes,” they stated flatly.

It was all they could manage to articulate, as the beast that had awoken drowned out any other function that did not immediately attend to what their body had cried out for over the past year.

He must have heard those very cries because he began to strip his armor immediately, and Adrian followed suit. They held each other’s eyes. The Iron Bull stood with only his trousers, watching Adrian calmly remove the Inquisition vestments. They saw his muscles working as they flung their smallclothes onto the pile of garments.

Not willing to let him set the pace, Adrian demanded, “Show me what makes you so popular in that tavern.”

He was on them, and they let go of all restraint against the beast within that was howling for release. Both their hands were rough and quick, mapping the terrain of the other’s body—pieces kept hidden even during the intimacy of the many out-trips to the wilderness. His hands found their breasts, and he lifted and gripped, sliding his palms over their nipples, as he felt their body respond with heat and moans. He cupped their bottom and lifted them onto the table.

Their hands swept over him, memorizing his chest and shoulders, his neck, his jaw, his _horns_ , his arms. As he sat them on the table, their hands glided down to the top of his trousers and then over them. They sighed heavily as their hands gripped his hardness through the cloth, and they heard a deep growl as he paused.

It was only for a second before he tipped them back and threw their legs over his horns. His mouth descended on them and they had never felt so deliciously _devoured_. He licked the length of them and kissed them deeply between the legs. They let free a guttural moan before it choked on the pleasure enticed by the tongue that slid in and out of them. He drank deeply of them, as if they were a wellspring in a drought.

Adrian could only lean back and accept. Their eyes clenched closed with the intensity. He began to suck, and the small hard bead between their legs came quickly to life. With each pull of his mouth, each intrusion of his tongue, pleasure pumped through Adrian. Their hips bucked and moved with their own innate rhythm, with the Iron Bull’s hands keeping them firmly anchored to his face. Their hands would flit between gripping his head closer and holding tight to their own chest, lost in the tidal forces of their own ecstasy.

Adrian felt a winding within them, a building of tension that had never felt so utterly fucking _good._ The Iron Bull sensed the change as well, and slid a wide, rough finger deep into them. It was then, as a grateful moan blossomed from their lips, that they realized just how wet they had become. The finger slid back and forth, stroking the forefront, as his mouth sucked deeply again. Adrian felt a deep ache in the muscles of their hips that spoke of intense need.

“Please,” they breathed, “harder.”

And he obliged, thrusting his finger harder, while maintaining its intricate patterns inside of them. They began to buck more strongly, as the tension built faster.

“I’m—” they gasped, “I’m gonna… hold my hips… don’t you dare let my hips get away from you.”

The Iron Bull heard their command, and his face flashed greedily. He wrapped an arm in front of their legs, pinning their hips roughly to the table. He continued to work at them, building tension, feeling his own hardness begin to ache and drip. Their hips strained against his arm impressively, but he held them fast. Searing heat flared from their centre and drowned Adrian in ecstasy—their own arm thrown over thier mouth to muffle the cries of release. The Iron Bull felt the intense pulsating of their body, the tightening around his finger and how they rocked the table on their own. He drank them in as they spilled out around his hand. The moment Adrian settled into a deep relaxation, he left their legs and stood.

Adrian gasped at the suddenness of his withdrawal, but they had no time to react as they were pulled up against his chest.

“I’m going to take you, now,” he growled.

“Mhm,” they nodded, eyes half-closed.

Adrian's legs shook as he bent them over the table. Enough sense in Adrian broke through the haze of pleasure to allow them to say, “Wait!”

"Is everything okay?” he asked.

Adrian eased themself to their elbows, breathless. “Just not the table.”

They had been bent over enough tables and couches to know the benefits of either and tables tended to squish their face. Adrian cast about for an alternative.

“The sawhorse,” they said.

The Iron Bull grunted and spun Adrian around, lifting them to his chest again. They held his face and kissed him deeply as he carried them over to the sturdy-looking sawhorse. Adrian could taste themself, and it drove them wild. They licked his lips, sucking on them as he had sucked on Adrian's own. They began to kiss him wetly down to his chin. He set them down to sit atop the sawhorse, and Adrian kissed their way down his chest and stomach, breathing in the scent of sweat, leather and lust. As they grabbed his hips, Adrian found that his trousers had already been discarded. They held the length of his hardness in their hand and gazed up at him.

His eye was half-lidded and hazed with need. Adrian sat up straighter, bringing their elbows into their waist, and resting the length of him against their soft belly. Their breasts pushed together, as they held his gaze in their own. One hand softly stroked him, while the other felt for the heavy sack that hung below his thick member. The Iron Bull obeyed the look on their face, standing still and breathing deeply as Adrian moved their fingers in a tight massage over him, held against their soft skin, and as they felt the weight of his balls. Wordlessly, Adrian moved both hands softly over the length of his shaft.

“Don’t let me fall,” they whispered, as they directed him to step back.

He steadied Adrian on the sawhorse, as they leaned forward. With each hand, they cradled his shaft and balls, and with their tongue they gently licked his tip. He attempted to move himself closer to their mouth, but Adrian withdrew.

“Ah, ah, ah,” they reprimanded, “Hold me steady.”

With a deep breath and a heavy sigh, the Iron Bull grit his teeth and held them steady. He was unmoving as they wrapped her lips about him and suckled, while their hands massaged elsewhere. He groaned in response to their moans that vibrated through their tongue.

There was no way that Adrian would have fit the Iron Bull in their mouth, but they were experienced enough to compensate. Soon, he was drenched from their saliva, and their hands moved expertly in patterns they made in response to how his body shivered at their touch. His taste was divine and primordial. Adrian missed knowing bodies like this just as much as any other way.

They released him, mouth dripping and smiling wickedly. He bent to kiss them deeply, senseless.

When he broke away, Adrian said smugly, “Now you may take me.”

All they heard was an amused exhalation as they were bent over the sawhorse. The sanded edge of the wood bit deliciously into their hips. Adrian felt their labia caress the tip of him before he began to move slowly in and out of them, a little deeper each time. With each extended exploration into them, Adrian felt gasps and groans spill out of their mouth. In mere seconds, Adrian was lost to the beast that roared silently in their own ears, knowing only the bite of the sawhorse and the Iron Bull’s thick length pushing deeper and deeper. When he was fully sheathed to the hilt, he stayed there with smaller movements, feeling their limbs tremble and the muscles wrapped tightly around him pulse and heat. They were still searing hot from before, and velvet with desire.

Then, Adrian groaned, “Oh, fuck me, please,” and all caution from both bodies was lost.

Adrian lost all concept of time, becoming a single point of ecstatic pleasure. Their body had moved, and they were on the floor of the storeroom, knees spread wide with a sack of something beneath their hips. The Iron Bull’s arms were on either side of them and he thrust wildly into them—deeply into them. They were both slicked in sweat and the wetness of Adrian’s ease of climax. They had lost count, and frankly did not care how many times they crested and shattered in climax—so long as he did not stop his relentless marauding of their body. Adrian had never heard a man growl so deep or curse quite so erotically when they would tense and release, and every time their senses were flooded.

“Adrian,” he grunted still thrusting himself with vigor, and all they could muster in response was a quizzical groan. “I can’t hold off.”

“Uh huh,” they moaned, “Yes.”

Adrian’s body perked up. They never could reach full satisfaction unless they felt their partner's own ecstasy break against them. From some unknown reserve of energy, they reinforced their legs against whatever was propping up their hips, and they lifted their head.

“Don’t worry about me,” they breathed, “I just want to feel you unleash.”

Adrian heard his breath catch as his pace became ruthless. They moaned as his balls hit them harder, knowing what was coming.

“I want all of it,” they said, “All of it, Bull.”

He groaned his own response, but it was lost to Adrian, as his arms wrapped tight around them, and they felt the full weight of his body.

“Oh, yes!”

The cry escaped Adrian's lips and the force of his thrusts let them know just how much he had still held back.

“All of it,” they breathed.

As Adrian felt the tension wind tighter in his body, something wild began to happen to theirs. Heat flooded their hips and they opened higher. Obscenities and proclamations to gods streamed from them in desperate moans. The Iron Bull became urgent, fully encompassing Adrian’s body—the body that worked now to let as much of him in as possible. Finally, he bucked his hips with a ferocious growl into their ear. Thrust after ruthless thrust, he came into them.

And a damn inside Adrian burst.

They could feel him erupt inside of them, over and over in quick succession. They felt his hand press into their mouth as they cried out—their own body erupting into an extraordinary orgasm. Their vision filled with light, and their body moved of its own innate volition, hips rocking strongly against the Iron Bull’s. Their muscles clenched in a pulsing, hot vice around his own climax, and he emptied himself with guttural force.

His hold on them loosened, but the two remained entwined for a long time after.

Adrian slept deeply that night, and fully, for the first time in a very long while. They had stumbled back to their chambers as if drunk—with little acting necessary. Their body was slack and flush, with a goofy smile slung across their face. As they faded to sleep, sprawled under the furs of their bed, all they could think was _wow_ , and all they could do was glow.


End file.
